


Catching Waves on Dry Land

by ariadnes_string



Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: Gun Kink, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-10-02
Updated: 2010-10-02
Packaged: 2017-10-12 09:13:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,581
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/123293
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ariadnes_string/pseuds/ariadnes_string
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fucking Steve McGarrett was dangerous in all sorts of ways, the least of which being that the Honolulu PD would find out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Catching Waves on Dry Land

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Русский available: [Поймать волну на суше](https://archiveofourown.org/works/129436) by [Helga Winter (hwinter)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hwinter/pseuds/Helga%20Winter)



When Steve reached across him to flick on the light and rummage in the nightstand's drawer, Danny's first thought was that he was going for more lube.

"Dude," he grumbled, half-awake, "last night was awesome and n'all, but you gotta give a guy a break. We can't all be Robocop. Work in the morning, y'know? Chill out already."

The mere brush of Steve's skin over his, however, was enough to make his dick decide that it wouldn't be adverse to a little more action.

"Can't sleep," Steve said, rolling back just enough to still be leaning most of his body over Danny's.

Danny should've remembered what else Steve kept in that drawer.

++++++

Fucking Steve McGarrett was dangerous in all sorts of ways, the least of which being that the Honolulu PD would find out. Danny was starting to think that McGarrett had the mojo, or at least the cojones, to take down a whole island's worth of homophobia, pulling Danny along in his wake. Danny didn't even worry too much about what would happen if Rachel discovered their relationship—Steve was an upstanding member of the community, after all—respectable, at least on the outside. He didn't think it would affect the custody agreement too much.

And so, even though he was in no way ready for either of those things to happen, Danny put both dangers somewhere behind the peril this new thing they were doing posed to the household furniture. Two kitchen chairs and the coffee table had already been sacrificed to certain unplanned activities.

No, the real danger involved in fucking Steve McGarrett had to do with the way it was impossible to tell what was really going on behind all that cocky competence.

Which wasn't much of an excuse for how surprised Danny was, after a perfectly ordinary night of mind-blowing sex, to find Steve holding a gun about six inches from his face.

++++++

"Okay, I hope you're not thinking what I think you're thinking," he said, the words tumbling out in an anxious rush, "because: No. No. I mean, everybody has a right to their kinks, and I respect that. But I think you should know that there are some things I don't do. Won't let you do. To me. "

 _And you and I need to have a conversation about limits and boundaries and asking first,_ Danny added silently. _And maybe about safe words, too._.

But Steve just deftly turned the gun in his hand and offered the handle to Danny. "It's not about what I'm going to do to you, Danno," he said, calm as fuck, "It's about what you're going to do to me."

"Oh, like that makes it better?" Danny pushed himself up on his elbows, irritated, "Like that makes any difference?"

"I think it does," Steve answered, "I think it makes a difference for you." And he almost smiled, like he might know Danny better than he knew himself.

Danny glared disapprovingly. Which would have been a whole lot more convincing, if they hadn't been naked already, and Danny's cock hadn't been so obviously taking Steve's side.

+++++

Danny took the gun. He swung his legs over the side of the bed, pulling the sheet over his lap as he went, and wincing a little, because it wasn't as if they hadn't gone for broke already that night.

The gun was a Berretta 92F, slim and black. A holdover from the Seals, Danny supposed, a far cry from the Smith & Wesson that was required issue for HPD. He could see why Steve had held onto it—it suited him, somehow.

There was something weirdly intimate about holding the weapon, even after all the things they'd done to each other over the past few months: something about knowing that the last hands to close around the cool metal had been Steve's, his the last finger on the trigger.

Quickly, Danny removed the clip, and checked to make sure the chamber was empty.

"You don't need to do that," Steve said behind him, lazy and confident, "I trust you."

"If we're gonna do this, there're gonna be rules," Danny growled, "my rules."

"See, Danno, I told you you'd like it." There was a definite smirk in Steve's voice.

Danny twisted to look at him. Steve was sprawled out on top of the covers, looking far more relaxed than a man who had just handed his firearm to another man should be.

More than a little challenge in his eyes, too, and Danny would have been lying if he'd said there wasn't a part of him that wanted to wipe that look right off his partner's face.

"Okay," he said, and straddled Steve, knees pressed into his hips, "Then, listen up: no bullets, and no penetration—got that?"

"Yes, sir; we'll do it by the book, sir."

"Yeah, and no talking, either." Danny braced himself on one hand and pushed the Berretta up under Steve's chin with enough force to tilt his head. Steve's eyes widened a little, some of the amusement already going out of them.

"Hands up on the headboard," Danny said, an afterthought, "Don't move them 'til I say you can."

Steve complied instantly, the shift in arm position cording the muscles in his shoulders, bringing the lines of his pecs into sharper relief.

A little surprised at the current of arousal Steve's response set going, Danny shivered. He tested the feeling, running the barrel lightly along Steve's jaw, across the curve of his mouth. "Keep those pretty lips shut, you got me?"

Steve nodded, almost imperceptibly, making a small sound, low in his throat. A game-changer of a sound: thready, needy, naked, and unlike anything Danny had ever heard from him before. The sound of Steve McGarrett starting to come apart, seams splittling, under his hands.

It hit Danny smack in the chest, the groin, and the gun shook a bit in his hands as the blood rushed to his dick. But he steadied the weapon. All of a sudden, he was hungry for more.

Imagining what the sharp edge of the metal must feel like against still over-sensitized flesh, Danny traced the chiseled planes of Steve's torso, felt the fine tremor in the muscles there vibrating in his own arm, as if the steel were a conductor, the wiring between them.

He'd watched Steve swim a few times, always from safe on the beach with a beer; seen him cut through the waves like a knife. And sometimes, when Steve emerged, Danny had the uncharacteristically fanciful notion that they'd all gotten it wrong. McGarrett wasn't a land creature who occasionally took the plunge—but a sea creature who spent brief intervals on dry land.

And so he felt now. As if he had a merman, smelling faintly of salt and spunk, trapped between his thighs, was holding him to ground as he began to buck up under Danny's hips.

Steve made another sound, more pleading, and Danny took the hint. He shifted so that he was kneeling between Steve's legs instead of straddling him, freeing the other man to spread his thighs, arch his back off the bed, as if trying to meet the gun halfway.

For a man of McGarrett's usual control, the abandon in the posture was almost shocking. Danny wondered how many other men--or women--Steve had let see him like this--so laid open, so surrendered to desire. He had to think there hadn't been many--and it was as terrifying as it was exciting that that Steve had allowed him into that number.

Curious, he ran the gun along the inside of Steve's thighs, watching the muscles twitch and judder in its wake. Not quite believing his own daring, he nudged it against his balls, almost ready to break the rule against penetration he'd set himself.

Steve was all the the way hard, cock full and curved in towards his belly, already leaking. Danny wondered if he could make him come without touching it; probably, he thought, and felt a little thrill at the power in that.

But in the end, he couldn't resist getting closer--the ache of his own erection too distracting to continue his investigation of Steve's mysteriously intense reaction to the gun. With as much control as he could muster, he lowered himself onto Steve's body, the Berretta slotted between them.

The heat of Steve's flesh layered over the chill of the gun pushed him almost over the edge, and Danny barely managed to dig his fingers into Steve's hips, to grind away the last millimeter of space between them, before they climaxed. Danny couldn't have said who came first—it was like one wave, a single swell, took them both.

+++++

"Fuck," he said, coming back to himself, and pushing himself off Steve, "what the fuck was that?"

Steve didn't answer, just lay there with what, on any other man, Danny would have called a goofy grin on his face.

"Oh great," Danny said, gingerly retrieving the gun of Steve's stomach and trying to wipe the come off it with a tissue from the bed stand, "I've killed you with my awesome sex powers—how am I gonna explain _that_ to the Governor?"

"Told you you'd like it, Danny," Steve murmured—still lying there boneless, which in itself was kind of freaky—he was usually as finicky as a cat after sex, itching to get clean. "Next time—"

"Next time? Next time? Don't flatter yourself, McGarrett, that shit is dangerous—"

 _fin_


End file.
